


Sundown

by InNovaFertAnimus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (technically i guess), Angst, Body Horror, Fake Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Starscourge (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNovaFertAnimus/pseuds/InNovaFertAnimus
Summary: On his way through Zegnautus Keep Noctis finds more than a simple illusion of his friend.Written for the Scourge Weekend Day 1: Clone degradation through the scourge





	Sundown

**Author's Note:**

> This is a (very late) contribution to the FFXV Scourge Weekend!
> 
> Spoilers for the game, especially chapter 13 I guess?
> 
> Rated mature to be on the safe side. 
> 
> No beta we die like Noctis

The glass of the Hi-Potion breaks easily in his hands. The magic is not enough to fully heal him, but at least it takes the edge off. His knee is still throbbing painfully. Turns out not all of the MTs on the ground are broken.

Noctis looks at the single Elixir in his possession. With his Armiger out of reach, there’s not much at his disposal. There are a few Hi-Potions he found along the way and he already used most of them.

The dirty beds of the abandoned dormitory look surprisingly inviting. Maybe a few hours rest would chase out the hollowness he feels since the moment he put on the ring, but he doesn’t have the time.

If he can’t access the Armiger, neither can Gladio or Ignis. At least he has the ring and his father’s sword to defend himself. Gladio and Ignis are resourceful enough, but there’s only so long they can hold out in a city full of MTs and demons.

Prompto has already been here for days at Ardyn’s mercy.

He puts the elixir in one of his pockets and gets back to his feet, leaving the dormitory behind. The mesh of corridors is dark and unnaturally quiet. The only thing he can hear are the distant steps of one of the patrols. Looking around, Noctis finds a cranny he can fit into just as the MT rounds the corner.

Noctis blocks the shine of his flashlight and stays as still as possible. He knows he can defeat them with the ring, but he can already feel the power of it eating its way into his flesh.

Holding his breath, he watches the MT walk past him.

There’s something about them that makes shivers run down Noctis’ spine. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but the MTs here are different.

When it sounds like it has left, Noctis continues his way.

A lot of hallways are blocked. There is not much choice in where exactly he’s going. What a coincidence. He already knew he was walking into a trap, but Ardyn could have made it a little less obvious.

Another door unlocks. There’s no corridor behind it, but some kind of storage room it seems.

There’s a chair in the middle of it. Someone is slumped on it with their back turned towards Noctis. Their hair is matted and dirty, but the shade of blond is painfully familiar.

Something is off. It looks just like the illusion Ardyn left for him earlier, but Noctis’ heart surges anyway.

Cautiously he steps into the room. There’s a certain smell in the air, something sickly sweet. Noctis knows it from somewhere, but can’t quite place it.

“Prompto?”

The person on the chair twitches. In the deadly silence of the keep their whisper carries.

“Help-“

Noctis recognizes the voice instantly.

It’s him.

Dropping his sword, Noctis runs towards his friend. He touches his shoulder. No broken MT, no illusion. Prompto feels warm to the touch.

Red irises framed in black look up to him.

Noctis draws his hand back in shock.

There is so much black, veins running along his neck, places where it broke through his skin. Under everything Prompto is barely recognizable.

They have seen starscourge before, but never as bad as this.

Prompto lets out a soft whimper.

“Make it stop-“

Black tears are starting to run down his cheeks, sizzling against the skin.

Noctis can’t do anything but stare as they fall. It can’t be happening. How could Ardyn do this to him.

More tears are running down Prompto’s face, his chest heaving. Scourge is dripping from him where it broke through his skin, starting to transform him into something else.

He cries out in pain, doubling over. Noctis catches him out of reflex, holding him up.  Black mist rises from the ground around them.

Noctis can feel his heart beat in his throat. What can he do? The scourge doesn’t affect him, but that’s all. He’s not Luna, he can’t fix this.

There’s a gasp against his chest.

“Please-“

Noctis pulls back a little, so he can hear him properly.

Instead of talking, Prompto slowly raises his arms, reaching for something.

“Make it stop-“

Following the direction of Prompto’s hand, Noctis turns slightly to see what he’s reaching for.

Noctis stares at his friend, then at the sword he dropped at his feet. His thoughts come to a sudden halt, simply refusing to connect the dots.

He came here to save Prompto.

He can’t do this.

Prompto starts to push against him. It’s too sudden to stop him from slipping away.

Noctis stays frozen until Prompto scrambles past him to pick up the sword. He reaches him just as Prompto grasps the handle. With a wild swing Prompto turns around. It’s not an attack, just to keep Noctis away, but Noctis is already too close.

Without thinking, he dodges.

The ring draws power in the same moment.

Noctis realizes what’s happening, but it’s too late.

“No!”

White light flares around him.

The Holy spell hits Prompto square in the chest. Noctis can only watch as Prompto is thrown back.

The sound of his skull hitting the floor is deafening.

Noctis runs after him.

“Prompto!”

He falls to his knees next to him. Black blood has already started to spread around him, but Noctis pays it no mind.

Prompto’s eyes are open, his red irises pointed unseeing to the ceiling.

Noctis screams.

Somebody calls his name. He recognize the voice, but he can’t bring himself to answer.

Steps echo down the corridor behind him.

Noctis just stays where he is. He can’t move away, can’t stop looking.

“What the-“

It’s Gladio. Two sets of steps, so Ignis is still with him.

Their steps slow, but still walk towards him.

Noctis finds his voice a moment later.

“Don’t come near!”

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to get a grip of himself.

Prompto is still staring to the ceiling. His chest doesn’t move.

He killed him.

He didn’t mean to, but he did.

He can’t breathe.

There’s a large hand finding his shoulder. He tries to shrug it off, but his attempts are half-hearted at best. They need to stay back, they need to stay safe, but it feels like the hand on is shoulder is the only thing holding him together.

“Look at his neck.”

Noctis has to blink a few times to clear his vision, but he does at he’s told, even though it hurts.

The veins under his skin show black, running up from under the plain shirt up to his jaw. There are a dozen of small tears, where it broke through his skin. He looks, but he can’t see, until Gladio’s voice drowns the rest of his thoughts.

“You remember our run-in with the pack of coeurls in Duscae?”

He remembers. They were just on their way back to turn in their hunt when they were attacked. The battle was messy and they used up their curatives on the hunt before.

Something clicks. Noctis’ eyes widen. With a shaky hand, he runs over the patch of skin above his collarbone. It’s raised by the scourge, but the texture itself feels smooth. Noctis can feel his heart beat in his throat.

“There is no scar.”

Some coeurls broke through their defenses and got Prompto quite good. They had to make do with makeshift bandages until they got back into the outpost. When they got their hands on a potion, it was too late to prevent scarring.

Noctis looks up. Gladio and Ignis are standing over him.

“There is no scar.”

Gladio nods, his face stern.

“Yeah, because that’s not Prompto.”

It doesn’t make sense. Relief and shock are fighting for the upper hand, leaving Noctis only more confused.

“But how…”

Gladio interrupts him.

“It doesn’t matter how. Do you really think Ardyn wouldn’t have killed him right away on the train, if this was the plan?”

Ignis gives a soft hum of agreement.

“He could have killed all of us multiple times and he didn’t. Prompto is alive and in here somewhere. We just have to find him.”

Noctis wants to believe that, he really does. It’s just after all that’s been happening, maybe he can’t.

“He killed Luna though.”

And his dad. And possibly half of Insomnia.

Even if this isn’t Prompto, there’s no guarantee he’s still alive. It’s a thought Noctis tried to keep away since he pushed Prompto off the train. They could already be too late. He could already be dead.

“Even if he’s dead, we have to go on either way.”

Gladio’s hand on his shoulder tightens, grips his clothes and pulls. Noctis doesn’t have the will to resist, so he lets himself pulled up. He is surprised, when his body is able to take his weight. Everything just feels so heavy.

Gladio doesn’t step away though.

“We’re getting him out of here, no matter what. We owe him that much.”

The finality with which he speaks tells Noctis that Gladio already thought of Prompto being dead.

It makes sense. As his Shield he needs to cover all their bases.

It’s just funny that the possibility seemed unreal for Noctis until now.

Gladio’s expression softens. His hand squeezes his shoulder lightly before letting him go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and continue looking.”

On cue, Ignis produces one of his handkerchiefs seemingly out of nowhere.

Noctis’ hands shake slightly as he takes it from him. For a few moments he allows himself to bury his face in it and just breathe.

It comes away black, small holes already burned into the fabric. It’s only then that Noctis looks down at himself. Demon blood is all over him, slowly eating away at his clothes.

They raid one of the bunk rooms they’ve passed for something Noctis can change into until they get access to the Armiger again. By the time they find a different set of clothes, there isn’t much of Noctis’ shirt left.

The new clothes feel foreign on his skin. He never really thought about differences in fabrics, but it feels wrong. Noctis knows he’s not really upset about it. It’s just like another step of losing his sense of self, of what made him Noctis and not just the King of Light, vessel of the old Kings and weapon of the Gods. The ring of the Lucii still burns on his finger. He wonders when he will be used to it, if he ever will.  

He just needs everything to stop for a moment, but he knows it won’t.

He only notices he’s been standing in the door for too long, when Gladio comes up at his side.

Gladio tilts his head in question, glancing down at Noctis’ side.

“Do you need me to take over?”

Noctis follows his gaze to his father’s sword in his hand.

It’s the only weapon they have on them. He thinks of Ravus, who kept it for Noctis in Luna’s name despite his grudges.

Shaking his head, Noctis grips the sword tighter. He can sense the worried glances of his retainers without turning, but he walks back out into the corridor without another word.

When they pass the room with the body, Noctis doesn’t look.

They find another one, more demon than human, or whatever these are. It’s easier because it doesn’t talk, doesn’t even seem to be intelligent. But its screams sound just like Prompto. It makes Noctis sick.

He can’t make himself check the body, so Gladio does. After a short shake of Gladio’s head they go on.

It doesn’t stop. Noctis forces himself not to think, only to get through this. They take down one who looks like Prompto when they met in school, black oozing from his eyes and mouth. The next one has its mouth ripped open on both sides, showing rows of sharp teeth in a grotesque grin. After Noctis pulls out the sword from the carcass, he throws up right next to it.

A short noise of static fills the room, then there’s Ardyn’s voice.

“Next time, it might really be your friend.” A chuckle over more static. “Are you certain it wasn’t the real thing? Wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”

The transmission cuts out.

Ignis’ careful steps stop next to where Noctis is still bowed over, trying to catch his breath.

“You know he’s trying to wear you down.”

A bottle of water appears in Noctis’ line of sight. He takes a sip and spits it back out to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth. It doesn’t help much.

Ignis’ hand finds his back and moves in gentle circles over his shirt, just like when Noctis was sick as a kid.

“We all know that Prompto is surprisingly resilient. We should not give up on him until we really know what has happened.”

Noctis forces himself to nod. He tries to believe that Ignis is right, like he always is. Ardyn would drag this out as long as he could. Prompto could still be alive somewhere, he has to be.

At the same time another thought takes hold. Prompto might not be dead, but there are other things that Ardyn could have done. What if this is just a sick kind of prelude to make them watch Ardyn infect the real Prompto? Luna is gone and with her the only cure they had. Noctis doesn’t think he can stand losing someone else again. Not like this.

They open another room. Something is huddled against the back. Even before their light falls on it properly, Noctis steels himself. It’s not Prompto, it just looks like him. That’s what he tells himself before he dares to draw closer.

This one has parts of the Magitek armor fused into its skin. Black blood oozes from the insertions. 

It’s in pain, probably even worse than the first one. When Noctis raises his sword, it doesn’t even try to get away.

Noctis doesn’t wait for Gladio to check the body. If it comes to it, Noctis doesn’t think that Gladio would tell him the truth anyway.

Their clearance gets updated again. The corridors still look mainly the same until they reach what looks like a prison complex.

There are cells lining the sides and dead-ends with even more cells spreading from the main hallway like branches from a tree.

There are corpses behind the closed bars, some more human than others. Noctis doesn’t let himself stop to look.

It seems the main path isn’t going anywhere as well, but there is a larger room at the end. All the bars make it difficult to see what’s in it, so they push on.

Another set of bars in front of them slides to the side and gives them a better sight.

Noctis starts running.

There’s a strange contraption in the middle of the room. Prompto is hanging from it.

Noctis is so stupid. They wouldn’t let Prompto roam around freely like the things they’ve found. He would have fought. Of course they needed to contain him somehow. This is him.

The next set of bars has the sense of self-preservation to open right away. Noctis storms in, Gladio and Ignis flanking him.

“Get him down!”

Immediately there’s a crash somewhere on his right, but Noctis doesn’t pay attention to it. The metal around Prompto’s middle snaps open. Reflexively Noctis steps in close to help support his weight. Prompto gasps in pain, but doesn’t open his eyes.

It takes another few moments for his arms to get released. Underestimating the sudden weight on him, Noctis sways back and crashes to his knees. The pain doesn’t even register.

He doesn’t let go of Prompto, keeping his upper body cradled against himself.

Noctis’ voice is barely more than a whisper.

“Prom?”

With another groan Prompto’s eyes flutter open.

They are blue tinged with violet, like they’re supposed to be. No red, no black.

It’s him. It has to be.

Prompto squints up to Noctis’ face, his fingers clawing into Noctis’ shirt.

“You’re really here?”

His voice is shot to hell, like he’s been screaming a lot.

Noctis’ throat closes up, so he just nods and squeezes him gently.

Prompto’s face scrunches up, shutting his eyes again, but his grip on Noctis doesn’t loosen.

“I knew you were coming.”

Ignis makes his way over to them. He’s crouching down next to them. His hand grazes Prompto’s arm before finding his shoulder.

“Prompto? Are you hurt?”

Prompto tries to turn his head towards him with little success.

“I’m fine.”

It’s definitely him. Looking at Ignis and Gladio, they look relieved as well.         

Ignis tilts his head, as if he’s heard something.

“Can you walk?”

Prompto swallows a few times, but it doesn’t help against the rasp in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Gladio steps in closer and offers them a hand up. Despite his reassurance Prompto doesn’t make a move to take it, so Noctis grabs it instead. Tightening his grip on Prompto, he gets his feet back under him and pushes upwards. Ignis is there to steady them. With another groan Prompto starts to cooperate, following the upward movement and placing his feet firmly on the ground.

They are barely upright when Prompto staggers to the side. There’s only a moment between Prompto’s eyes rolling back and his knees giving out, but Noctis is quick enough to grab him once more.

They go down again. Noctis’ hand flies to Prompto’s neck. His pulse is there, drumming against his fingers. He keeps his hand there, scared he’s just imagining things, but Prompto’s heart keeps beating.

“He’s passed out.”

Ignis hums. His eyebrows draw together.  

“You said get him down. Was he suspended?”

Gladio lets out a breath of curses before he answers.

“Yeah, he was hanging from a fucking cross.”

A shadow passed over Ignis’ face, then he takes a long breath.

“Check for internal injuries, but chances are he passed out because of exhaustion or the sudden change in blood pressure.”

After everything that happened, such a simple cause would be a blessing.

With careful hands they lay out Prompto properly. Noctis still cradles Prompto’s head as Gladio kneels down beside them and lifts Prompto’s shirt.

Noctis eyes fall instantly on the familiar scars on his friend's shoulder, but the relief at seeing them is short-lived. There are a lot of cuts and bruises, some looking fresh, others a few days old. A deep purple bruise stretches all over his side with dark red spots. Somebody must have kicked him multiple times, hard. His shoulders are swollen and Noctis can still see where the steel was closed around his chest. For how horrible it looks, there are no black veins, no gaping wounds oozing demon blood. Noctis holds on to that. It’s not the scourge. They can take care of the rest.

They are interrupted by mechanic steps echoing through the corridors.

Ignis’ head is already turned into the direction.

“We shouldn’t stay here. The last dormitory was just around the corner.”

It’s the reasonable thing to do, still it takes Noctis a few moments to actually get out of the way so Gladio can pick Prompto up from the ground. Noctis barely refrains from telling Gladio to be more careful. Gladio is already careful, but the way Prompto’s head rolls around before it’s settled against Gladio’s chest is unnerving to watch.

The corridors are too narrow to hide with four people, so Noctis walks in front, ready to use anything at his disposal to force their way through if necessary.

They meet one of the MTs patrolling and a couple of imps. Noctis doesn’t hesitate to use the ring on them. By now the pain licks up to his elbow and even further as uses the Alterna spell.

It doesn’t take too long until they are in the relative safety of a dormitory. Gladio lowers Prompto onto one of the bottom bunks.

Ignis is just a step behind him. Bowing over Prompto’s form, he lets his hands run over Prompto’s torso. His face twitches and settles into a frown when he reaches his shoulders. Reaching his bruised side, the frown only deepens. Prompto lets out a small sound of pain, making Ignis pull away.

He turns to Noctis.

“Highness, if you have any curatives left, now would be the time.”

Noctis would love to kick himself for not thinking about it earlier. He empties everything out on the mattress right next to Prompto.

Gladio huffs at the display.

“So we’re down to four Hi-Potions and one Elixir. Great.”

Ignis hums at the numbers and it’s a hum Noctis heard before. Ignis sounds like this when they had only enough money to get either food or gas and the only hunt available was too dangerous.

“Give him one potion and we’ll see what happens.”

Noctis wastes no time to break one of the vials over Prompto.

The magic glows in the dim light of the dormitory. After the glow has faded, Ignis runs his hands over Prompto’s side again and nods to himself, but doesn’t look quite happy. Prompto stays quiet this time, but still doesn’t wake up.

They wait for another few minutes. There’s no reaction though.

Ignis steps away and turns towards the door.

“We’re going to look for more curatives. Stay here until we get back, highness.”

Gladio follows Ignis quietly. Noctis first instinct is to protest. They shouldn’t be out there, not without access to their weapons. Noctis should go, at least he can fight, but he glances at Prompto and his mouth stays shut.

The door shuts behind them and Noctis is left in the dead silence that greeted him the first time he entered the complex. It feels like it’s pressing down on him.

He glances at Prompto again.

The Hi-Potion didn’t do much on the surface. There’s dirt and blood crusted on his face and every visible patch of skin. Looking around the room, Noctis finds a sink half hidden behind a collapsed shelf.

It’s a bit of a struggle to reach, but the water is still running. Ripping the hem off his shirt, he wets it to bring it back to Prompto.

The water is cold, but Prompto doesn’t wake up when Noctis cleans the cut on his nose. Tracing his fingers over it carefully, he finds the bone intact without any crooks. Noctis has only seen cuts like this, if the nose itself is broken. Someone must have set it.

He needs to wash out the strip of cloth several times as he works his way down. There’s a track of dried blood running down the inside of his arm. The edge of the cuff must have dug right in the gap his glove leaves at his wrists.

Noctis is careful as he opens the glove and pulls it off.

He finds a shallow cut and a black barcode tattooed onto his wrist.

In the first second Noctis thinks that the tattoo is fresh, that Ardyn inked a sick reminder of his time in captivity into Prompto’s skin, but it’s not. It’s more a dark grey than black, the edges of the diamonds framing the barcode starting to fade.

He remembers what Ardyn said about the MTs, how they were made. It seemed just like an unrelated horror story, just like the origins of the demons, to make Noctis falter.

He gets it now.

At the same time he doesn’t.

Does that mean Prompto could have been one of them? Does that mean any of the MTs Noctis killed could have been his friend instead?

Noctis can’t really say that it doesn’t matter, because Prompto is his best friend and so everything about him matters. It doesn’t change anything though, Noctis refuses to let it.

What matters is that Prompto was hurt because of him. And judging from the small crease between Prompto’s brows he hurts still.

Noctis perches on the bed next to him and carefully puts the glove back in place. Prompto shouldn’t have to worry about that now, even if it eats Noctis alive. Taking out another potion, Noctis holds it out over his friend. He knows he should save the curatives for the road ahead, but they will just have to make do.

He watches the magic seep into Prompto as he crushes the potion.

It takes another few moments, then Prompto’s eyelids begin to flutter.

Slowly he opens his eyes. It takes a moment until they manage to focus on Noctis.

They’re still blue.

Noctis allows himself a small smile. He hopes Prompto is still too out of it to notice how shaky it is.

“Welcome back.”

Prompto hums and grimaces. “So walking was not successful?”

“Nope.”

There are still cuts and bruises littering on Prompto’s skin that the potions neglected for more important injuries. Wordlessly Noctis pulls out another one and holds it out to him.

Prompto shakes his head, declining.

Turning his head slightly, Prompto lets his eyes wander around the room.

For a moment he bites his lips, then turns back to Noctis.

"I need to ask you something."

Noctis sits up a little straighter.

"Anything."

It's the least Noctis can do, after all the things he messed up. The fact that Prompto doesn't just ask right away makes Noctis' stomach churn. He understands though. They can't just bounce back from Noctis pushing him off a moving train.

Prompto hesitates for a moment, glancing to the side.

“Did you worry about me?”

For a moment Noctis can only stare at Prompto. 

“Of course I did. How could you even think-“

Noctis’ voice breaks.

How could Prompto _not_ think that? They didn't even try to get back to look for him. Noctis earned this. More than this. This is all his fault.

Prompto struggles to sit up, his eyes wide.

“It’s okay, Noct, I just-“

“It’s not okay!”

They both flinch at his voice. Prompto's hands hover in the air between them, frozen on the way to reach out. Scared to touch.

Noctis knows he's ruined it.

All the horrors, all the frustration and helplessness Noctis felt since Altissia well up in him. It’s so much and he doesn’t know how to keep it under anymore.

He drops his head to his chest. The sound of blood rushing through his veins drowns out the silence between them, ringing louder and louder in his ears. Noctis brings his hands up to block it out, but it doesn’t help, it just gets worse.

Somehow he still hears Prompto over all of this.

“Hey, Noct?”

There are fingers wrapping themselves around Noctis’ left, slowly pulling his hand away. Noctis feels too weak to fight it. He’s already fighting everything else, all of the time.

“Buddy look at me.”

It’s difficult, but Noctis obeys. Raising his head, he finds Prompto’s eyes drilling into him with an energy he shouldn’t have after everything he went through.

“You came for me and got me out in time, right?”

There’s nothing Noctis can say. What does _in time_ even mean if you leave your best friend in the hands of your enemy?

Prompto’s eyes soften again as he reaches out to him. Calloused fingers run over Noctis’ cheeks. Only then Noctis notices the wetness. Batting Prompto’s hands away, he wipes his face with the back of his hand frantically. He needs to apologize. Prompto has been held capitve for who knows how long and Noctis is the one losing it.

Prompto doesn’t give him the chance though.

“You’re wearing the ring."

Suddenly self-conscious about it, Noctis drops his hands into his lap. The ring still looks foreign on his finger. Only then Noctis notices the small cracks in his skin, spreading from the ring down his hand.

Prompto's eyes are glued to them. It makes Noctis want to hide.

“Does it hurt?”

For a moment Noctis thinks about lying, down-playing the effect the ring has on him. It's tempting. Prompto would see right through it, but maybe he would not bring it up right away.

Noctis swallows once and nods.

Before he can say anything else Prompto’s arms wrap around him. It startles Noctis, but he doesn’t try to pull away. Instead he lets his head fall on Prompto’s shoulder, suddenly too heavy to hold up anymore.

Prompto’s hold tightens for a moment, pressing his cheek against the top of Noctis’ head.

“We’re gonna get through this, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”

It’s not. Noctis can feel it in his bones, that it won’t be fine. But just for a few moments he wants to pretend that Prompto is right. He closes his eyes and nods.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @deducitetemporacarmen for low traffic in multiple fandoms and complaining about writing haha


End file.
